Revitalization
by Seraphim25
Summary: COMPLETE It's been five years since Fiona gave up on Michael. Now her life is at risk again, and she has no choice but to rely on him for everything. Can he come through for her one final time? Will she let him? Canon through 7x10. Mostly Mike/Fi but appearances by the rest of the gang.
1. Chapter 1

Thank you for giving my story a try.

I don't own anything related to Burn Notice or any other TV show. I wrote this for fun, not profit.

Also, I tried to use as much factual information as possible, but I took educated guesses with a lot of the government and medical stuff. Please don't sweat if it doesn't ring true.

Hope you enjoy, and feel free to review if you want!

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"Morning, Michael!" Agent Robert Granger called through his open office door.

"Hey Rob!" Michael replied.

He and Robert worked on the same floor of the CIA building and had developed a friendship over the past four years. Robert had been a pencil pusher in the foreign affairs department even before Michael had arrived, and he was one of the first agents to befriend Michael when he arrived in Washington, D.C.

"Do you have a minute?" Robert asked. "I want you to sign this report from your last field op in England."

"Sure," Michael replied and entered the office.

He was used to signing papers daily, since he had gone from field agent to supervisory officer of covert operations. A younger Michael would have balked at the idea of sitting at a desk all day, watching other agents do the dirty work. Forty-six year old Michael however, appreciated the decrease in gunshot wounds and sore muscles.

As Michael reached out for the paperwork, a folder lying on his friend's desk caught his eye. It seemed as though Robert had been looking through the folder when Michael walked by, because a loose paper was hanging out of the bottom of the folder. Michael wouldn't have given the paper a second glance, if it hadn't been for a few key words that made his heart skip a beat: Dublin, IRA, Glenanne.

Michael looked quickly back at his paperwork, hoping that his glance hadn't been too obvious. It seemed the man sitting in the office chair hadn't noticed, since he had been digging around his unkempt desk for a pen. Michael respected his fellow agent, but had to admit the younger man wouldn't last a day in the field.

Robert kept digging through piles of paperclips and post-its for a pen, giving Michael time to consider his next move.

_Just forget what you saw,_ Michael tried to convince himself. _The Glenannes are a big family, whatever is in the folder probably has nothing to do with _her._ And even if it does, she doesn't want your help, she made that abundantly clear five years ago._

Michael wanted to let it go, knew he should, but also knew that he couldn't, not until he knew whether _she_ was in that folder and why. So, thanking his lucky stars for Robert's lack of organization, Michael reached out as if to help him in his still unproductive search, and knocked over the folder in the process.

Papers scattered everywhere. Michael, apologizing profusely, scrambled to pick up any of the papers within his reach. As he put the papers back on the desk, he glanced almost imperceptibly at each one, hoping that he would not see the name that would make his life infinitely more complicated.

It seemed that Michael would have no such luck. As he stole a glance at a paper that had fallen between the desk and the trash can, he saw a sentence that made him feel as though his heart were falling into his stomach.

_"...based on the aforementioned evidence, the nation of Great Britain requests that the Irish-born Fiona Glenanne be extradited to London, England, where she will stand trial for the crimes she committed while a member of the Irish Republican Army."_

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As Michael boarded his last-minute flight to Miami, he questioned whether he was making the best decision. He knew Fiona was more than capable of taking care of herself, but some part of him could not ignore the information he had stumbled across in his colleague's office. He supposed the smart move would be to call Fiona and give her a heads up, but even if he knew her number, he had a sneaking suspicion that she would not answer his call. He had already called his mother, whom he knew had lunch with Fiona regularly, but she said Fiona had taken on a client and hadn't been in touch in over a week. He called Sam as well, but his best friend said that he hadn't heard from Fiona recently either. This made Michael even more determined to find and talk to her in person. He made Sam promise to keep checking Fiona's apartment, and call him when she showed up. Michael hung up, even more anxious than before. Despite the fact that Fiona was no longer a part of his life, the thought of her in danger was enough for him to use up his accumulated personal days and fly to a city he thought he might never see again.

About thirty minutes into the flight Michael realized that he had no plan. Considering that his job consisted almost entirely of making plans, it was a bit unnerving to not be ready for what was coming next. Michael supposed his first move would be to find Fiona. Perhaps he could find an address for her in the CIA database. If Granger had gotten a request for her extradition, chances were that he had someone keeping tabs on her location. He quickly opened his laptop and logged into his government account. Sure enough an address for an apartment in southern Miami popped up.

With one task out of the way, Michael turned his thoughts to what he would say to Fiona once he found her. He supposed that whatever it was, it should be fast, since she would probably shoot him if he stuck around for too long.

Michael thought back to the last time he had seen Fiona. It was nearly five years before, and he had just completed what was supposed to be his last mission with the CIA.

_He drove the Charger to Fiona's house and parked in the driveway, relieved to see that Carlos's car was absent. Michael walked in without knocking. He had no right to do so, but it had become a habit after the past seven years. What he saw when he entered made him think that knocking would have been wise._

_Fiona Glenanne was lying on the couch with a nearly empty bottle of Irish whiskey tucked between her waist and the cushion. She appeared to have been there for a while, as her clothes were wrinkled and her hair was unkempt. She didn't stir when Michael entered, a fact that greatly disturbed him, considering how many enemies he knew would love to find the fiery woman in such a vulnerable state._

_He walked over to the couch warily, trying to decide how to wake Fiona without getting a bloody nose in the process. While he was pondering this, the woman in question began to stir, opening first one eye then the other, to see who had disturbed her restless slumber._

_"It's me," Michael said in a whisper. He thought it best to approach her gently, considering how big a hangover she was likely to have._

_"Ugh, Michael?" Fiona questioned, peering up at him through half-closed lids._

_"What are you doing here?"_

_"I uh..." Michael began, not sure how to put it. He finally decided to spit it out. "I finished the job."_

_Fiona looked at him blankly._

_"So?" she said._

_"So, uh, I'm going to D.C. for the debriefing, but after that I'm a free man. We're all free." He smiled hopefully. "It's over."_

_Fiona blinked slowly and sat up. "Okay."_

_Michael sighed. This was even worse than he had expected. He'd take violent, explosive Fiona over indifferent Fiona any day. He decided to try a different tactic._

_"You know, once I'm officially retired from the CIA, I'll have plenty of free time. Maybe we could take clients, like we used to. I know you're with Carlos, and I respect that, but-"_

_"I'm not with Carlos." Fiona interrupted suddenly._

_"What are you talking about?" Michael asked, confused. He had just witnessed their reunion a few days before when they had rescued Carlos from an old enemy._

_"Carlos broke up with me."_

_"Oh Fi, I'm sorry," Michael began, "I know how much you-"_

_"Don't give me that crap, Michael!" Fiona exclaimed, her eyes reddening. "This is _your_ fault! If it weren't for you and that stupid organization, I would still have a boyfriend! Every time I find a bit of happiness without you, you come back into my life and scare away the people I care about!"_

_"Fiona, I didn't mean to scare anyone; I want you to be happy! And if _I _don't make you happy, then I want you to be with someone who does."_

_"But you _do_ make me happy!" Fiona shouted, close to tears. She knew she was still drunk, and was sure Michael knew it too. "How can I move on, and be a good partner to someone else, when I see _you_ every day? These past few months, I felt like I was cheating on you by being with Carlos. I lied to him about the time I spent with you, and I didn't even feel guilty!"_

_"Fi," Michael tried again, "I'm _so_ sorry."_

_"Don't apologize!" She snapped. "You'll only make this harder."_

_"Make what harder Fi?" Michael questioned, dreading whatever she was about to say._

_"I-I can't be around you anymore. Let me finish." She said, as she saw Michael begin to speak. "When you are around, Michael, you are my boyfriend, which means that I can't have other meaningful relationships. But I need more than you can give me. I need someone who will be there for me, someone who won't walk out on me, ever. I need a normal relationship."_

_Michael sensed the conversation going in a direction that terrified him. "Fiona, I can_ _be that person. I'm done with the CIA, we can be together."_

_"You can't, and you never will be." Fiona replied sadly. "I need my own life, without any interference from you."_

_Fiona glanced down at the floor, unwilling or unable to look at Michael as she made her final request of him._

_"Please, Michael, go to D.C., and don't come back."_


	2. Chapter 2

Hi again! I was so glad to see that Chapter 1 had a good number of readers, and even some reviews! Thank you to all those who gave it a chance, especially the reviewers.

Here is the next chapter. I hope you all stick to the story. It's already finished so you won't have to worry about being left hanging!

I don't own Burn Notice in any way. Thanks again!

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_Fiona glanced down at the floor, unwilling or unable to look at Michael as she made her final request of him._

_"Please, Michael, go to D.C., and don't come back."_

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Michael was startled out of his memory by the pilot's announcement that the plane was about to touchdown in Miami. He couldn't help but wonder if he was doing the right thing, going against Fiona's wish that she never see him again.

However, no matter what her feelings were towards him, Michael's first priority was Fiona's safety. He may not have been the greatest boyfriend, but he would never let anything happen to Fiona.

After getting off the plane, Michael immediately dialed Sam's number.

"Did you find her?" Michael asked, before Sam could say hello.

"Sorry, brother," Sam replied, "I've been calling her and watching the apartment since you called, and I haven't seen her."

Michael could hear the worry and fatigue in his friend's voice. He realized that Sam must have been watching Fiona's place for five hours straight.

"I'll come and relieve you right now Sam."

"Mikey, are you sure?" Sam asked cautiously. "I know you and Fi didn't exactly part on good terms. She might be less, ya know, homicidal if I'm here to back you up."

"I'm sure Sam," Michael replied, though even he didn't believe himself. "I'm sure," he repeated, a bit more convincingly.

"Okay Mike, I'll see you soon," Sam said before hanging up.

After his talk with Sam, Michael was doubting his decision to see Fiona in  
person even more. He had never been afraid of her, per se, but he respected her enough to feel apprehensive about dropping in unannounced, uninvited, and unwanted.

Pushing his doubts to the back of his mind, Michael went to rent a car. He  
didn't want to think how much less reliable the Charger had become after five years. Once he'd picked out his car, a black Hyundai, he headed towards the address he had found for Fiona's apartment.

When he arrived, he spotted Sam getting out of a red Cadillac.

"Subtle choice of vehicle, Sam," Michael joked, jogging over to greet his old  
friend.

Sam had aged only a little in the past few years. His hair was a bit grayer and  
he had gained a few pounds, but he still looked young for his age.

"Mikey! You look good, brother! How is D.C.? Do you miss being out in the  
field?"

"It's good work Sam. It keeps me busy and pays the bills, so I can't complain."  
Michael stated, trying to sound positive despite his growing anxiety at Fiona's  
absence.

"So she hasn't been home all day?" Michael questioned, unwilling to waste time  
with small talk.

"No, brother," said Sam regretfully. "Do you think she's in trouble?"

"If she isn't now she will be soon," stated Michael. "Her past is finally  
catching up with her. Now that she's not considered my asset anymore, she's fair game for other countries."

"Do they have anything on her after all these years? I mean, they can't have  
proof that she was involved in specific crimes, can they?"

"They don't need to convict her Sam," said Michael. "Once her old enemies find  
out where she is, they'll get to her before she even gets to court." Michael  
suppressed a shudder. "I need to keep her in the U.S."

Silence followed this pronouncement, both men knowing what was at stake. Sam was the first to speak.

"I hate to be negative here, but you didn't see her after you left. She was a wreck. She kept saying that she was upset because Carlos moved out, and she was, but I think your leaving was what broke her."

"She told me to leave Sam, begged me."

"I know, Mikey, an' I'm not saying you did the wrong thing. I'm just tryin' to  
tell ya that when it comes to you, she's not rational, so don't expect things to  
go smooth when you do find her."

"You know Sam, that is what I least expect."

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_A good spy needs to have many talents. Some are obvious. The ability to lie  
convincingly, shoot well, take down an enemy. But anyone who has ever completed a mission knows that, although these things are important, the true measure of a spy is how long he can sit in a hot car without falling asleep._

Michael was good at staying awake. He had sat in cars all over the world for  
hours, even days at a time, waiting and watching for his target to make a move.

This evening however, as he watched Fiona's empty apartment, Michael felt  
himself drifting off. Perhaps his fatigue was a result of the increase in  
temperature from D.C. to Miami. More likely, it was the stress of worrying about Fiona's safety, coupled with the fact that he was not as young as he used to be. Whatever the cause, just a few hours after sunset, Michael Westen, the  
former super-spy, fell fast asleep.

Three hours into his nap, Michael awoke to the barrel of a gun being pressed  
into his temple. Cursing himself for his carelessness, he slowly raised his hands in a sign of surrender.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

At the sound of the familiar voice, Michael was at once relieved and terrified.  
He was relieved that his former lover was alive and safe, and terrified that the  
same could not be said of him. He was sure Fiona would not pull the trigger, but not sure enough to bet his life on it. So, as slowly as he could, Michael turned to look out the car window at Fiona.

As soon as she entered his field of vision, he felt his heartbeat speed up. Even  
after all these years, she was still the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

Fiona had aged gracefully. Her eyes and mouth were surrounded by a few more  
wrinkles than he remembered, and her hair was significantly shorter and darker, but in her eyes Michael saw a piece of his soul that he had thought was lost forever. Before Michael could lose himself completely in her gaze, Fiona spoke again.

"I told you I never wanted to see you again. Did you think I was joking? Leave  
now or I WILL shoot you."

Fiona's icy glare made Michael wonder if he should just do as she asked, but he knew that he couldn't, not when her life was on the line.

"I will leave, I promise, but I have to tell you one thing first," Michael half  
ordered, half pleaded.

"If you ask me to help you with a mission, Michael, so help me..." Fiona let the threat hang over them like a storm cloud.

"No, no mission," began Michael. He knew he had to make this short and sweet. By Fiona's narrowed eyes and clenched teeth, Michael could see her patience was wearing thin.

"I accidentally saw some paperwork that called for your extradition to England, and I wanted to warn you before MI6 shows up to take you away. Now, if you'll please lower your gun, I will leave, like you asked."

Fiona looked shocked. She lowered her gaze toward the gun that she still held by Michael's ear and quickly tucked it behind her back, an expression of guilt flickering across her face.

"Good-bye, Fiona," Michael muttered, turning his key in the ignition of the rental car.

"Wait!" Fiona exclaimed, suddenly coming out of her daze.

"Yeah Fi?" Michael looked at her expectantly. Fiona rubbed her hands over her eyes wearily, and sighed.

"Why don't you come in for a minute?"

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Thanks for reading, please review!


	3. Chapter 3

Hello! I want to thank you reviewers for the reviews. They have been so nice to receive! And of course thank you to everyone who is reading Revitalization. It means so much to me that you are enjoying it enough to keep reading.

By the way, I plan on updating often. I am an instant gratification type of person, so I don't want to keep anyone else waiting.

I do not own Burn Notice.

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_"Wait!" Fiona exclaimed, suddenly coming out of her daze._

_"Yeah Fi?" Michael looked at her expectantly. Fiona rubbed her hands over her eyes wearily, and sighed._

_"Why don't you come in for a minute?"_

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Ten minutes later, Michael and Fiona were seated across from each other, glasses of iced tea sitting on the round kitchen table in front of them. Neither had spoken a word since entering the apartment. Michael could tell from the look on Fiona's face that she was refusing to speak first, so he began.

"I'm sorry for coming here, I just didn't know how else to reach you. I tried calling Sam but he didn't know where you were, so I figured I'd find you myself."

"I was on a job," Fiona said shortly, purposefully not elaborating.

"Good," said Michael, "I mean, I'm glad that you're safe."

"Don't," said Fiona, finally looking up at Michael with glare. "Don't act like you care."

"Of course I care," he replied, "why do you think I came to warn you?"

"Some misguided sense of obligation, wanting to play hero; I won't pretend to know what goes through your mind. But _don't_ tell me you care. If you cared you would have chosen me over the job."

"Fiona, I _had_ to-"

"Shut up, Michael!" Fiona raised her voice, but quickly regained her cool demeanor. Michael snapped his jaw shut and she went on. "Now, I need a few days to get my affairs in order, sell my guns, and call my family. Then I'll go with you."

Michael furrowed his brow, completely confused as to why Fiona would need to do any of those things.

"Fiona, what are you talking about?" Michael asked, wondering what he had missed.

"You're going to take me to D.C." It wasn't a question.

Michael couldn't remember saying anything that would have given her that idea.

Sensing his confusion, Fiona added, "Someone needs to hand me over to MI6."

"I'm not going to do that Fi! We can figure this out. I'm sure I can find a loophole of some sort, or do someone a favor. We've gotten through things like this before, there is no way I am letting them take you away, not after all you've already been through! You don't deserve to be locked up."

Michael stopped to catch his breath. He didn't mean to sound so desperate, but after all that Fiona had done for him, he refused to see her brought anywhere against her will.

Fiona sighed deeply. She seemed to be a bit under the weather, but Michael wasn't sure if it was a result of his news or simply a stressful day.

"Michael," she began, "I am _done_ playing games. If the British government has called for my extradition from the U.S., then I guess I'm going to London. It's beautiful this time of year," she added wistfully.

Michael looked at her like she had grown an extra head.

"What are you talking about?" He questioned. "You're not seriously considering letting MI6 take you into custody, are you?"

"No, I'm not considering it, I'm doing it." Fiona said simply, as if she were talking about going to the grocery store.

"I will not let you turn this into one of your vendettas," she told Michael sternly. "I'm too old to run and too tired to fight."

Michael had to admit that she didn't look strong enough to fight at the moment, and wondered if she could be coming down with something.

She got up from the table and walked towards the door, motioning for the former spy to follow her. Michael obeyed, partly out of habit and partly out of concern. She was beginning to look a bit green, but he supposed that was normal when one was handed a death sentence.

When they reached the door Fiona opened it and turned toward Michael once again.

"Give me two days," she said, "and then you can take me to your bosses. I'm ready to put this all behind me."

Michael, too stunned to reply, watched as Fiona shut the door in his face. He was thoroughly bewildered by her behavior. The Fiona he remembered would never willingly give up her freedom, except to save him.

_Is that what she's doing now?_ Michael wondered. _Is she giving herself up so I won't have to fight this battle?_

Michael couldn't come up with an answer to that. He sighed, rubbing some of the tension out of his shoulders as he sat in his car. He would have to discover the reason for Fiona's strange behavior. And, if the timeline she gave him was accurate, he had only two days to figure it out before she surrendered herself to her enemies.

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After leaving Fiona's apartment, Michael found himself driving towards his childhood home. Upon realizing where he was going, he decided it would be best to face his mother early on, so she couldn't claim he was avoiding her. He thought perhaps she and Sam and Jesse could help him figure out a way to save Fiona, so he called his two friends and asked them to meet him.

When he arrived at Madeline's house, he saw Sam's car was already parked in the driveway. He walked through the door, pasting a smile on his face as his mother came rushing forward to hug him.

"Michael!" She exclaimed. "It's so good to see you! Why didn't you tell me you were coming to visit? Can you stay long?"

"Hi Ma," said Michael, trying to extricate himself from her embrace. "Sam."

"How'd it go with Fi?" Sam asked. "It couldn't have been too bad, I don't see any bullet holes."

"You saw Fiona?" Madeline asked, before Michael could answer.

"Yeah," he replied, "she's actually the reason I came to Miami."

"Oh, maybe-" began Madeline.

"We're not getting back together, if that's what you were going to suggest," Michael told his mother.

"No," continued Madeline, "I was actually going to ask you to stay away from her."

"What?" Michael asked, confused. "Why?" He thought his mother would never stop trying to push him towards Fiona.

"Michael, I love you, but you need to let Fiona live her own life. If you come back here every few years and break her heart, you're only going to hold her back. I know how much you need her, but _she_ needs you to let her go."

Michael heard Jesse whistle lowly behind him. He turned around to face him.

"Is that what you think too?" He accused.

Jesse took a step towards Michael and looked him directly in the eyes. "Absolutely, only I wouldn't have put it as nicely as your mom."

Michael realized that his mother and Jesse had a point, so he decided not to argue. Instead, he told them his reasons for the impromptu visit to Miami.

Madeline and Jesse avoided eye contact while he was explaining, and Sam looked determined yet worried. Once Michael had finished, Jesse was the first to speak up.

"You can count on me to protect her Mike. We've been through worse. There must be a way to get MI6 off her back."

"Thanks Jesse," said Michael, finally smiling. He knew his friend just wanted what was best for Fiona.

Sam spoke up. "Do you know how long we have to figure out a plan?"

Michael winced; he had known he would have to get to this part. "Well, I don't know when agents are coming to get her, but, she asked me to turn her in myself in two days." He said the last part quickly, as if ripping off a bandage.

"She _what_?" Sam and Jesse exclaimed.

"You are_ not_ going to turn your girlfriend in, Michael," his mother said, incredulous.

"Of course not Ma," said Michael, exasperatedly. "And she's not my girlfriend."

His mother and friends ignored his last statement.

"Why would she turn herself in?" Jesse asked. "Fi's not the type who'd do well locked up for the rest of her life."

"She won't be locked up," Sam answered Jesse. "As soon as her European enemies get wind of her location, they'll shoot her on sight, or worse."

"That won't happen," assured Michael. "I'll figure out a plan. Maybe I can make her an official CIA asset again, or call in some favors from the Brits, or hide her somewhere or..." Michael's ideas dwindled; he knew none of them were particularly promising.

Sam seemed to know what he was thinking. "Mikey, if Fi doesn't want help, there's nothing you can do. Maybe it's time to let her face the consequences..." Sam trailed off upon seeing an angry glint in Michael's eyes.

"If you're not going to help Sam, you can leave," he said coldly.

"I'm sorry Mike; I didn't mean to upset you. I just think that before you can come up with a plan to help Fiona, you have to figure out what _she_ wants. You know that no one can help Fi unless she is willing to accept it."

Madeline and Jesse nodded in agreement.

"Okay," sighed Michael. "I guess I'll talk to her and figure out how I can help, if she'll let me."

"I think that's a good choice, Michael," said Madeline, patting him on the shoulder. "But it's getting late, so why don't you stay here for the night and visit Fiona in the morning?"

Michael agreed. He hoped that after a good night's sleep he would be better prepared to understand Fiona's mindset and help her in whatever way she would let him.

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Long after Sam and Jesse left, and just before he went to bed, Michael checked his cell phone. On it he saw six messages from his boss at work, asking where he had gone and demanding that he show up first thing tomorrow. Michael called her back, informing her that he had a family emergency and would be taking some personal days. Back when he was a spy, Michael wouldn't have been able to take time off of work, especially not on such short notice. Now it was not only possible but desirable.

Michael drifted off to sleep somewhat contentedly, knowing that although he had tough times ahead of him, Fiona was nearer than she had been in years.

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Thanks again for reading, and please review if you get the chance!


	4. Chapter 4

Hi everyone! Thanks for the positive feedback. As soon as I have time I'll try to figure out how to respond to the reviews, but I hope you know I appreciate all the reviews and readers.

I've decided to update a little less often, because some readers may not check the site every day. Since I'm scared about how BN will end, I will try to post the complete story by next week. I'm going to be really depressed after that :-(

Reviews, follows, and favorites cheer me up! Enjoy!

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_Michael drifted off to sleep somewhat contentedly, knowing that although he had tough times ahead of him, Fiona was nearer than she had been in years._

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Michael awoke the next morning feeling as if someone had tied knots in his stomach during the night. He was anxious about talking with Fiona. He couldn't remember ever having been able to change her mind once she had set it, and feared this would be no different. After eating a yogurt and trying to ignore his mother, who was giving him useless advice on how to approach Fiona, he headed towards her apartment.

Michael paused when he got to the front door, once again considering his next move. He had never knocked on Fiona's door, nor had she knocked on his. They had always been close to each other, regardless of their official relationship status. Now however, he was unsure whether barging in would be an invasion of privacy. He was saved from having to decide when he heard a faint retching sound coming from beyond the door, followed by a loud thud. He barged in and nearly tripped over Fiona, who was lying on the floor in a puddle of vomit, curled into a ball as if in pain. Michael immediately crouched down beside her, ignoring the acidic smell that was beginning to permeate the room.

"Fiona!" He turned her head to face him, relieved to see that she seemed to be regaining consciousness.

"Michael," she croaked, putting her hand to her head and squinting up at him. "What happened?"

"I don't know Fi. I just got here and found you lying on the floor. You're burning up; maybe you should see a doctor."

Michael always tried to avoid doctors whenever possible, as they asked too many questions. On this occasion however, he was prepared to answer the questions of anyone who could cool Fiona's scalding, feverish skin.

"No doctors," Fiona groaned, "I'll be - fine just - help me to the bathroom so - I can get - cleaned up."

Michael looked skeptical, but decided not to argue just yet. He didn't want to take chances with her health, but he also didn't want to hand her over to MI6 agents on a silver platter, or gurney as the case may be.

Grabbing Fiona's outstretched arm, he hoisted her up to her feet, holding on to the back of her sleep shirt - which he recognized as his - to keep her upright.

She wobbled slowly alongside him into the bathroom where he drew a lukewarm bath, hoping to cool her body. He helped her out of his shirt and into the tub, where she lay back and immediately closed her eyes.

"I'm just going to go clean up Fi. Give a yell if you need anything," he whispered.

Michael entered the living room, leaving the bathroom door open so he could keep an eye on Fiona. He found a mop and some cleaning solution and began scouring the floor, removing all traces of the mess. This was not what he had expected to find when he had decided to visit Fiona. He wasn't sure if he was more relieved or frustrated to have to put off his conversation with Fiona. He assumed it was a 24-hour bug, and wondered briefly whether this would give him an extra day before she insisted he arrest her. He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of Fiona moving about in the tub. Hurrying in, he saw a now clean Fiona struggling to get out of the bath. Grabbing her hand and a towel, he helped her over the edge.

"I should help you clean up, Michael," she said.

"I already took care of it Fi, now let me help you get into bed."

Fiona was both embarrassed and grateful. Michael thought she looked a tad healthier than she had when he walked in, but the fact that she was accepting his help made him sure that she was sicker than she was letting on.

The two walked slowly into Fiona's room and Fiona wasted no time sitting on her bed, looking exhausted. Michael grabbed the first shirt he could find, which happened to be another one of his. He decided he should find out exactly how many of his shirts Fiona had stolen. Not that he minded, but he wondered how Fiona's other boyfriends had felt about her fondness for his pilfered pajamas.

As soon as Michael had buttoned the shirt, Fiona collapsed back into her pillows. She was asleep within seconds. Michael sat there for a moment, wondering whether she would be angry if he stayed. He decided that he couldn't leave her alone in this state, no matter how mad she might be, and so he grabbed an issue of Guns and Ammo and settled next to her on the bed, waiting for her to awake.

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A few hours later, Michael decided to give in to the rumbling of his stomach and find some lunch for himself and Fiona. He rummaged through the fridge, pleased and a bit surprised to find a week's worth of yogurt on the shelf. He grabbed two blueberry cups, two spoons, and a bottle of water. He put the food on Fiona's bedside table and gently shook her awake, concerned when she didn't acknowledge him. He rolled her over so he could see her face and felt her forehead again; it was still hot. He tried once more to wake her, and was relieved when her eyes blinked open groggily.

"Hey Fi," he whispered.

"Hi," she whispered back, seeming confused. "What are you doing here?"

"You're sick, remember? I got you some yogurt. Do you think you can sit up to eat?"

Fiona nodded then winced, putting her hand to her head. "It hurts," she explained softly.

"I'll get you some ibuprofen."

He found some in a kitchen cabinet and hurried back to Fiona's side. She seemed too weak to sit by herself, so he propped her up on some pillows and handed her the pills. She took them and with Michael's help, lifted the water bottle to her lips for a sip. Then Michael opened the yogurt and held the spoon out to Fiona, but she simply closed her eyes and settled back against the pillows.

"Fi? Fiona? You need to eat something, please."

"Too tired," she mumbled.

"How about if I feed it to you? All you'd have to do is swallow?"

Fiona simply nodded, keeping her eyes closed.

Michael was unaccustomed to Fiona admitting she needed help, so with every bite she let him feed her he became more and more anxious.

When Fiona had swallowed the last of the yogurt, Michael sneaked away, leaving her to hopefully sleep off whatever illness her body was fighting.

He decided to check his messages...there was no reason why he couldn't keep up with his work while Fiona was sleeping, he reasoned. He kept an eye open for news of any MI6 movement, relieved when he found none. He wasn't sure why agents hadn't stormed into the apartment yet, but he was grateful.

Michael's thoughts turned back to how he could save Fiona from being extradited. He soon decided his best bet would be to weasel some information out of his coworker, Robert Granger. He took out his phone, noticing that Granger would just be coming back from his lunch break. Realizing that his friend would be more likely to give up information when he was well-fed, Michael immediately dialed the number. He listened to the phone ring three times before Robert picked up.

"Hey Mike!" He answered cheerily.

"Robert! How are you?"

"Good, and yourself? I heard you're taking some vacation time...didn't realize you had anything planned."

"I didn't, I'm actually in Miami, taking care of a sick family member." Michael thought it best to stick as close to the truth as possible. He didn't want to make Robert suspicious.

"You're a good man Mike."

"Thanks Robert. Listen, I'm calling because I'm working on some cases while I'm down here and I need some information."

"Sure, how can I help?"

"Well, it's about an Irishwoman, Glenanne, I believe." Michael was expecting a confirmation, but instead heard only silence.

"Robert, you still there?" He tried.

"I'm here," Robert's voice sounded flat. "Do you think I'm stupid?" He continued. "Do you think I don't know your connection to Glenanne? I did my homework."

Michael could have kicked himself. Of course Robert was aware that he had been close to Fi, his name was probably all over her file.

"Of course not Robert, I-I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure she gets a fair deal."

"A fair deal?" Robert repeated incredulously. "A fair deal for Glenanne is 20 years in prison followed by a lethal injection." Michael let out a noise that sounded like the cross between a sob and a growl. Robert simply went on.

"She blew up the British consulate for crying out loud! And don't get me started on her time in Europe!"

Michael was beginning to see that this phone call was going to do more harm than good, and was about to hang up when he heard Robert sigh.

"I know how you feel about her, Westen."

"I don't - it's just -" Michael tried to deny it.

"If _half_ of what's in that file is true, then you must be going crazy right now, knowing there's nothing you can do to save her this time." Robert let out a long sigh. "I'll tell you what; I'll misplace the extradition orders. It'll take a week to get a new copy signed by all the right people. Will that be enough time to say goodbye?"

Michael could hardly believe his luck. With a few extra days, he was sure he could come up with a plan to thwart MI6. He was thankful, though a bit offended, that Agent Granger had so thoroughly underestimated him.

"Thanks Rob, that means a lot to me."

"No problem Mike. I'll see you when you get back."

Michael hung up the phone, sighing in relief. He once again settled into the chair by Fiona's bed, hoping that she would be well enough by the next day to discuss their options.

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Thanks for reading and please review if you can find the time!


	5. Chapter 5

Hello readers! I made this chapter longer, so hopefully that will work better. I think I'll split the rest of the story into two final chapters and post them every other day. That way it'll be complete by the day before the finale :-(

***By the way, what did you think about the TO BE CONTINUED at the end of 7.12? I was disappointed because I think it breaks up the intensely emotional scene, and sort of deflates it. Hopefully the next episode does the rest of the scene justice.***

As always, thanks for reading!

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_Michael could hardly believe his luck. With a few extra days, he was sure he could come up with a plan to thwart MI6. He was thankful, though a bit offended, that Agent Granger had so thoroughly underestimated him._

_Michael hung up the phone, sighing in relief. He once again settled into the chair by Fiona's bed, hoping that she would be well enough by the next day to discuss their options.  
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Fiona slept away the afternoon. Michael was relieved that the ibuprofen had lowered her fever and let her rest. As dinner time approached however, he decided to wake her, since she hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast.

Rousing her was considerably harder this time. Every time he managed to wake her for a moment, her eyes immediately closed in slumber once again. He finally gave up, feeling more worried than before. Her fever soon returned with a vengeance, and she began to sweat and shiver.

Worried for her well-being, he decided to call Sam for help. After he had explained Fiona's state to his friend, Sam agreed to come by, adding that he'd stop by the store to get some supplies.

Less than an hour later, Michael heard a knock at the door and walked over to let Sam in.

"Hey brother, how's she doing?" Asked Sam, concerned.

"Not good Sam. I haven't been able to wake her up since this morning. I want to get some fluids in her."

Sam opened up the shopping bags and pulled out Gatorade, yogurt, crackers, and various pain relievers.

"Well let's go in and try again. I'm sure between the two of us, we'll get her right as rain in no time."

The two men entered Fiona's bedroom, Gatorade and crackers in hand. Sam tried to hide his shocked expression at how sick Fiona seemed. He watched Michael trying in vain to wake Fiona enough that she could sit up, and decided to suggest a different strategy.

"Mike, I don't think that's gonna work. Why don't you let me hold her up, and you can give her sips of Gatorade."

Michael nodded, preoccupied, and reached for a bottle of the blue liquid. He helped Sam maneuver Fiona's body into a sitting position, and lifted the drink to her lips. She opened her mouth slightly, and was able to take several tiny sips with Michael's assistance. On the fifth sip she began choking, so Michael patted her on the back until her throat cleared, then lay her back down on the bed.

He saw Sam leaving the room and motioning for him to follow. Michael did so, and sat in Fiona's living room facing Sam who was on the couch.

"She's worse off than I thought Mike," said Sam honestly.

"I know. I've never seen her like this before Sam. Do you think she has the flu?"

"I don't know, but I think she needs a doctor."

"We can't risk it Sam. She needs to stay under the radar until I can come up with a plan."

Sam's face softened as he heard the anxiety in Michael's voice.

Sam considered their options.

"I have a buddy who was a doctor, she just retired a couple years ago. I can ask her to come see Fiona."

Michael pondered this offer. "Can you trust her Sam?"

"I haven't talked to her in a while, but she's always been a good woman. She became a doctor because she wanted to help people. I'm sure she'd do whatever she could for Fiona."

Michael nodded his head slowly, eyes glancing towards Fiona's room.

"I'll give her a call, maybe she can come over Monday if Fi hasn't improved by then."

Michael considered this offer. Monday, that left an entire four days for Fiona to get better. If she hadn't improved by then, Michael knew he would have to find medical help of some kind anyway. He voiced his agreement to Sam's suggestion.

"Thanks for everything Sam," Michael said as his friend smiled and headed out the door.

Left alone in the room once again, Michael felt he should go sit with Fiona. He didn't want her to be alone when she woke up.

Michael sat in the chair by Fiona's bed, wondering why things always had to be so complicated between them. He had spent so long ignoring Fiona's feelings for him, and now that he was at a point in his life where he was ready for a relationship, she didn't want anything to do with him. Not for the first time, Michael fell asleep with regrets from his past invading his mind.

A heart-stopping retching sound woke Michael from his slumber. He looked around in the dark frantically, trying to find a light to turn on. When he finally found a switch, he ran over to Fiona, gasping when he saw that she was covered in vomit. She sat hunched over, tears streaming down her face from the effort of gagging. Michael rubbed Fiona's back to comfort her until she coughed up the last of the clear bile. When she had finished, Michael pushed her blankets aside and carried her to the bathroom.

"Fi, do you think you can stand by yourself for a minute, so I can turn on the water?"

Fiona just stared at him sleepily, her eyes still watery and red. Taking that as a no, Michael held her up with one arm and adjusted the tap with the other. He made the water slightly cool, hoping it would lower her fever.

Michael had never thought of himself as a caretaker. He liked to help people, but preferred to use words and guns rather than washcloths and soap. However, seeing Fiona so helpless brought out a nurturing side of him that he had never known existed. He scrubbed her body gently and cleansed her hair as best he could. As he helped her sit on the floor so he could dry her, he felt anxiety bubble up in his chest as he realized that she hadn't once protested his overbearing ministrations. He couldn't remember the last time the fiercely independent woman had let him carry her while she was conscious. As he settled her on the living room couch so he could change the linens on her bed, he found himself wondering if he should take her to the hospital, consequences be damned. He was worried that she couldn't keep any medicine down, and knew she was already dehydrated. Remembering that Sam's doctor friend would be visiting in a few days, he decided against a trip to the ER, and thought he'd see if a good night's sleep would improve matters.

_It's probably_ _just a stomach bug_, he told himself.

After Michael had replaced the sheets on Fiona's bed, and put the soiled ones in the wash, he placed Fiona in her bed once more. Exhausted from the work and worry of the past day, Michael lay down beside Fiona and closed his eyes. He hoped that the next time he woke up, it would be a result of Fiona kicking him out of her bed.

The rest of the night did not go as Michael had wanted. He woke up sweating several times, a side-effect of sleeping next to someone with a high fever. Each time he awoke, he replaced the cold compress he had placed on Fiona's forehead. Several times he heard Fiona muttering in her sleep, seeming a bit delirious. He wished she were able to relax, so they could both get some much-needed rest.

The next few days were more of the same. They consisted of Michael getting as much fluid into Fiona as he could, keeping tabs on her fever - which stayed around 103F - and helping her in the bathroom whenever it was necessary. Although Michael would have grown tired of caring for anyone else so intensely, he couldn't imagine not helping Fiona. And he had to admit that, even though she was sick, he was cherishing his time with his favorite person.

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As sunlight started to peek through Fiona's sea green curtains on Monday morning, Michael was awakened by the noisy ring of his cell phone. Seeing it was Sam, Michael immediately answered it, moving into the living room to talk.

"Hi Sam, how's it going? Did you get in touch with that doctor?"

"I did, but I wanted to check in with you to find out if you still need her. Fi any better?"

"No Sam, she's worse." Michael answered quickly. "Her fever is still high and she can't keep anything down. I can't even get her to open her eyes."

"Geez Mike, I'll tell the doc to head over asap. And I'll be there soon."

Michael hung up the phone, relieved that help would be arriving soon. He tried to keep busy as he waited, switching the laundry to the dryer and checking his work email. Soon however, he found himself sitting by Fiona's side, eating a yogurt and watching her for any changes. When he finished the yogurt, he decided that he should get Fiona into some clean clothes before their visitors arrived. The shirt he had changed her into last night was soaked in sweat. He grabbed a comfortable looking cotton dress and underwear. He assumed that dressing his former girlfriend would be a definite line crossing, but he knew that Fiona would be more comfortable afterwards and that was his top priority at the moment.

As he began unbuttoning the light blue shirt, Fiona started to stir uncomfortably. He paused for a moment to put his hand on Fiona's head, rubbing circles on her temple. She calmed down almost immediately, as Michael began to talk to her in a soothing voice.

"I'm here Fiona, I've got you. I won't leave until you make me, I promise. I'm going to change your clothes; just relax."

Michael was pleased with how much calmer Fiona was when he was talking to her, and so he continued as he removed the shirt and began to cleanse her feverish body with a wet cloth.

"You're really sick Fi, so I'm going to have a doctor come. I know you don't want that, but I'm worried about you." He pulled the floaty cotton dress over Fiona's head. "I need you to get better."

After he had thrown the dirty clothes in the laundry basket he heard a car door slam. Soon after, Sam knocked before letting himself into the apartment.

"Hey Mike," Sam said, getting nothing in return but a nod and a forced smile. "Doctor Reddi's on her way. Should be here in ten minutes."

Michael nodded again.

Sam decided to change the topic to how they would save Fiona from MI6 once she was better. Michael didn't seem to be on top of his game, not commenting much on Sam's admittedly weak suggestions. After nearly fifteen minutes of trying to keep Michael's mind off of the sick woman in the next room, Sam heard a car pull up and gave a sigh of relief. The doctor had arrived.

The retired Dr. Caroline Reddi had been a physician for over thirty years of her life. She was tall and thin, dressed in casual clothes that made it look like she was going to run an errand, not diagnose a patient. Having had to dress in nice clothes and uncomfortable shoes every day when she was practicing medicine, she vowed to wear only what was comfortable during her retirement. She had a somewhat commanding presence, but kind eyes that revealed her concern for others' wellbeing.

Michael walked over the the doctor and shook her hand, introducing himself quickly before leading her to Fiona's room.

Dr. Reddi began taking Fiona's vital signs, not looking up as she asked questions.

"How long has she been ill?"

Michael thought back to when he had first arrived in Miami and spoken with Fiona.

"She was weak and tired when I saw her on Wednesday, but Thursday was when she started to get really sick. When I got here that morning she was throwing up, then she passed out."

"Hmm. How long has she had the fever?"

"At least since Thursday morning."

Dr. Reddi continued questioning Michael while she examined Fiona. Michael answered her questions to the best of his ability, a bit embarrassed that he didn't know if Fiona had been out of the country in the past year, or when she had last had a physical. It only freshened his guilt at not being a part of her life for the past few years. Michael's thoughts were disrupted by a small moan from Fiona. He looked up and reached over to hold her hand. She opened her mouth and attempted to speak, her voice hoarse from sleep.

"Mi-chael...hurts."

He gripped her hand tighter.

"What hurts Fi? Your head?"

She nodded weakly.

"Don't go...to...docks. Trap." She looked concerned for a moment.

"Can't...set bomb." She drifted back to sleep.

"What are you talking about Fi? What bomb? Which docks?" He started to wake her again but the doctor shook her head.

"She's delirious," she explained. "The dehydration and fever are confusing her."

When Dr. Reddi finished the examination, she motioned for the two men to follow her out into the living room.

Her face was serious but Michael was relieved that she didn't seem panicked.

"I know you don't want to take Fiona to the hospital," she began.

"We can't," interrupted Michael.

"What do you think is wrong with her?" Sam asked, as if Michael had not spoken.

"I can't make a definite diagnosis without a blood test, but I think she may have West Nile Virus. I saw a case very similar about seven years ago."

"Can't you give her medicine for it, if it is West Nile?"

"It usually gets better on its own, but in the case I saw, the virus led to meningitis."

Sam sighed heavily. "Do you think Fiona has meningitis?"

"I'm not sure, but her headache and extreme weakness do point to that. The only way to know is to take her to the hospital and get her tested. If she were there she could also have an IV to help with the dehydration."

Sam turned toward Michael, who was staring at his shoes. "Mike," he tried, "I know this isn't what you wanted to hear."

"No, it's not. Fiona's life is on the line. If I bring her to the hospital, you know she'll leave in handcuffs. She could recover from this virus on her own."

"That's true," replied Sam, "but if the virus spreads she could die." Michael still didn't seemed convinced.

"We've thwarted the police before Mikey, but I don't know how to thwart meningitis."

Michael looked again at the doctor, avoiding Sam's stare.

"I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"Not unless you want to risk your girlfriend's life."

Michael didn't even bother to correct her.

"Fine," agreed Michael, a lump in his throat. "You drive Sam."


	6. Chapter 6

Hello! This is the longest chapter, and the story is almost over. I'm glad to see that so many people are reading what I write.

By the way, it is so cool to see how many people from different countries are reading this! ENJOY!

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Michael held Fiona's upper body carefully on his lap during the drive to the hospital. Every time Sam hit a bump Fiona groaned in pain, so Michael tried to hold her as steadily as he could. He talked to her the whole time, not even thinking to be embarrassed that Sam could hear. He told her how sorry he was that she had to go to the hospital, he knew how much she hated them. He promised her that he would figure out a way to keep her in the states, a promise he intended to keep, though he couldn't think how.

When they arrived at the hospital Michael helped Fiona into a wheelchair. Her eyes were open but she seemed disoriented. Michael filled out the paperwork, deciding against using a fake name. Having worked for the government, he knew that a fake name would barely slow the agents down, and only make them angrier.

About an hour later Fiona was wheeled into a small room with only one bed. Michael was glad that she would have privacy. He asked the nurse, who came in to draw blood, for some painkillers for Fiona. She hadn't stopped clutching her head since they arrived, and was shifting uncomfortably as if her back were sore. A few minutes later Fiona was hooked up to an IV and soon fell asleep again.

Two hours later, Michael was about to fall asleep himself, when the nurse returned, this time followed by two state troopers.

"Mr. Westen?" The shorter of the two asked.

"_Agent_ Westen," Michael replied with a hint of a growl.

The officer ignored him. "We're here to ensure that Ms. Glenanne does not escape custody."

"I know why you're here," Michael replied shortly.

The two uniformed men marched past Michael, one taking out a pair of handcuffs which he used to attach Fiona to the hospital bed. Michael stood up, furious.

"That's unnecessary!" He shouted, losing his facade of indifference.

The officers ignored him and took their places on either side of Fiona's bed.

Michael sat down again, taking Fiona's free hand and stroking it. Now was the time to figure out a plan, he realized. He wouldn't let himself sleep until he figured out how to save Fiona.

Michael was still wracking his brain for a solution hours later, when he felt a light squeeze on his hand. His eyes shot up and met Fiona's, which were full of confusion and a little bit of anger. She seemed to be gathering up what little strength she had to say something to him.

"What - what am I doing - here?" She managed to say.

Michael moved to her side, sitting on the bed and keeping hold of her hand.

"You're sick, Fiona. They're doing some tests, but they think it might be something serious." Michael hurried to explain himself. "I didn't want to bring you here, but you were so sick for days, and I couldn't risk you getting any worse. I'm so sorry Fi."

Fiona tried to move her other hand to his knee, but was restrained by the handcuffs. She looked shocked for a minute, then angry when she noticed the uniformed officers on either side of her.

"What is - why?" She managed to sputter out, looking at Michael with wide eyes.

"They're here to make sure you don't escape," he spat out, glaring angrily at the large men. Then, leaning in close so his mouth was practically on Fiona's ear he whispered, "Don't worry, I'm figuring a way out of this." He placed a soft kiss on her cheek before moving away again. Fiona looked doubtful, before closing her eyes to slumber once more.

Once Michael was sure Fiona was sleeping soundly, he took out his phone and a new text message from Jesse and three missed calls from his mother. He opened up the text and saw that Jesse wanted to know how Fiona was doing, and whether he could come visit. He quickly texted back, saying that the results of her blood test hadn't come back yet, and that a visit would be welcome. He wanted to call his mother as soon as possible, but refused to leave his ex-girlfriend's side when she was handcuffed and surrounded by armed men. He was sure Jesse could take over for a few minutes when he arrived.

Just as Michael was trying to work out what to tell his mother so she wouldn't panic over Fiona's situation, a woman Michael recognized as Fiona's doctor entered the room.

"Do you have the results, doctor?" He asked.

The doctor nodded but didn't smile. "I'm not allowed to share them with anyone but Ms. Glenanne or her next of kin," she informed him.

"I'm her next of kin," he replied, a little too quickly. He had no idea if he was telling the truth. He had been Fiona's next of kin when he was living in Miami, but he was sure she would have changed that in the past few years. _Although I never did,_ he reasoned.

"Very well," said the doctor, not looking entirely convinced, "please sign here."

Once Michael had signed the document, he looked at the doctor, hoping against hope for good news.

"Ms. Glenanne's blood test came back positive for West Nile Virus."

Michael nodded, remembering what Dr. Reddi had said. "How bad is it? Has it spread? Does she have meningitis?"

The doctor shook her head. "We'll have to do an MRI to know for sure. Some cases of West Nile are much worse than others. From what I've seen, Ms. Glenanne has a pretty severe case. Based on her disorientation and headaches, there is a chance that she has developed encephalitis or meningitis, but the MRI will tell us for sure."

Michael felt his chest tighten. "And if she does have one of those?"

"Some people recover fully, some have brain damage, and some die." She looked at him apologetically. "Only time will tell."

Michael nodded slowly, thanking the doctor automatically as she left. He walked over to Fiona, taking hold of her hand once again, trying to ignore the pitying looks the officers aimed toward him. He decided to not tell her what the doctor said just yet, wishing to keep her safe from the worry that plagued his own mind.

As he sat by her side, he thought about how much he regretted not spending time with her when he could. He had given his life to the organization that betrayed him rather than the woman he loved, and all he had to show for it were hundreds of missions that he wasn't allowed to divulge. Missions, memories, and secrets that he couldn't tell anyone. _Secrets_, thought Michael. _I know things that the CIA doesn't want anyone else to know._ Suddenly Michael realized that he had the means to save Fiona sitting in his head the whole time. He texted Jesse, asking him to bring his laptop. Michael knew exactly how to save Fiona.

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Jesse walked into the hospital room, feeling as though he were interrupting an intimate moment between his two friends. Michael was leaning over Fiona, his face close to hers, whispering words that appeared to be comforting to her. He was surprised to see that Fiona hadn't knocked Michael out on sight, considering the anger at him he knew she had harbored for the past five years. He supposed that was proof of how sick she was.

Jesse coughed, alerting the two to his presence.

"Hey guys, how's it going?"

"We're fine Jess," Michael replied, while Fiona smiled weakly from behind him.

"Have you found out what's wrong yet?" Jesse asked.

"West Nile Virus," Fiona answered roughly.

Michael went on to explain. "It could be no big deal. They're going to do an MRI to be sure it hasn't affected her brain, but that's just a precaution." Fiona glared at Michael. "Sure, that's why you brought me to the hospital, because it was _no big deal_." If she hadn't been so sick, Jesse was sure she would have shouted the words.

"I told you I'm sorry Fi, I couldn't risk your life."

Fiona rolled her eyes. "I'm going to be killed as soon as I get to Europe anyway. You could have at least given me the dignity of dying on my own."

Michael did not look pleased at her casual attitude. "I _told_ you Fi, I figured out a plan."

"I'll believe it when I see it," she scoffed, eyes closing with obvious exhaustion.

"Uh, I brought your laptop," Jesse said, before either could continue the argument.

"Thanks Jesse, I'm going to use that in a minute. But first, do you mind staying with Fi so I can call my mom? I haven't updated her yet, and I bet she's going crazy."

"Sure thing Mike. Take all the time you need."

Michael smiled gratefully and walked towards the elevators. As soon as he reached the hospital lobby, he took out his phone and dialed his mother's number. The phone barely rang twice before she picked up.

"Hi, Ma-" Michael began but was cut off.

"Michael? Where have you been? How's Fiona? Sam said she's in the hospital. Is she alright? I haven't seen either of you in days!"

Michael waited for his mother to lose steam before beginning his explanation.

"I'm sorry Ma. I haven't been around because I was taking care of Fiona. I took her to the hospital yesterday. It turns out she has West Nile Virus, but they're not sure how bad it is yet."

"West Nile Virus!" Exclaimed Madeline. "People _die_ from that Michael! My neighbor's friend's cousin had that and she was in bed for a month! Do they think Fiona's going to make it?" She finished, more softly.

Michael shuddered at the thought of her not making it. "I don't know yet Ma."

He went on to repeat everything the doctor had told him. Madeline was worried, but Michael was relieved that she didn't completely panic.

"What about this whole extradition thing Michael?"

Michael sighed quietly. "I think I have a solution Ma."

"To save Fiona? Will _you_ come out of this safely too?"

Michael paused. After all these years, his mother deserved some honesty. "Probably not Ma."

He said goodbye, with a promise to keep in touch, and pressed the end button, walking back to begin the first part of his plan.

When he arrived back at Fiona's room he felt panic bubbling through his chest. It was empty. Frantically, he made his way to the nurses' station and demanded to know where Fiona had been taken. The nurse calmly informed him that she had been taken for her scheduled MRI, and gave him directions to the location.

Michael walked quickly through the halls and down the stairs, breathing out a sigh of relief when he saw Fiona being wheeled along the hallway in front of him, Jesse by her side and the officers following behind. By the time they stopped at the MRI room, Michael had caught up. He grabbed Fiona's hand, glaring at the new pair of officers, this time a man and woman, when he saw she was cuffed to the wheelchair.

"Sorry I wasn't there when you woke up Fi. I was on the phone with Ma."

"Not to worry Michael, I've gotten quite used to you not being around. I thought maybe you'd gone back to DC."

Michael winced, it was a low blow but he supposed he deserved it. He knew that a long conversation was in order, but decided to wait for a more appropriate time. A technician approached the large group.

"All of you will have to wait outside while the imaging is taking place. Oh, and there are no handcuffs allowed in the MRI machine." She added, looking pointedly at the officers.

The cuffs were removed and Fiona rubbed her wrist, preparing to stand. She couldn't seem to muster the energy to get on her feet though, and looked embarrassedly up at Michael who wheeled her into the MRI room, without asking permission. He gave Fiona a quick smile, relieved when she returned it, and left her in the technician's care to watch through the glass windows from the hallway.

Some time later, Michael saw the technician help Fiona from the MRI table and back into the wheelchair. She looked so tired that Michael was surprised she was able to keep her eyes open. When she entered the hallway he took over pushing her wheelchair, wanting to be as close to her as he could. They all walked back to Fiona's room, and Michael and Jesse helped Fiona back into bed, where she immediately fell asleep.

"Thanks for your help, Jesse."

"My pleasure Mike. Do you need anything else?"

"No, we should be all set here."

"Okay. Sam's going to visit this evening, so you can go home for the a while."

"I'm not leaving," said Michael, matter-of-factly.

Jesse had expected this, and didn't even bother to argue. "I'll have Sam bring you some clothes. Is your stuff at your mom's?"

"No, it's at Fiona's now."

"Okay, I'll let Sam know. And I'll tell him to bring some real food. You missed lunch you know."

Without waiting for a response, Jesse threw Michael a protein bar that he pulled out of his pocket and exited.

Michael wasn't particularly hungry, but he ate the bar anyway, knowing he'd need his strength. When he finished eating, he checked on Fiona one more time, then sat back in his chair, turned on his laptop, and began to write.

By the time Michael finished his document, Fiona's dinner had come and gone, the officers' shifts had changed, and stars were disappearing from the early morning sky. Michael sighed and rubbed his brow, drawing curious glances from the stationed officers. He looked over at the dinner Sam had dropped off much earlier, suddenly starving.

After he'd eaten every bite of the chicken parmesan and salad, Michael went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth. The past week was catching up with him, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up next to Fiona and sleep for two days. He settled for pulling his chair up next to the bed and, after giving the officers one last glare, lay his head by Fiona's side and drifted to sleep.

Michael didn't even stir until the doctor arrived later that morning. Looking at his watch, he saw that it was 8:00am. He glanced at Fiona, surprised to see that she was already awake. He smiled at her and stretched before turning his attention towards the doctor, who was already speaking.

"...seem much better, the IV is clearly helping," Michael caught the tail end of her sentence.

"Yes, I still feel weak, but I haven't thrown up in a while and my headache is nearly gone."

"Perfect, that corresponds to the results of the MRI. I'm happy to tell you that it didn't pick up any nervous system inflammation."

"What does that mean?" Asked Michael, sensing that it was good news.

The doctor smiled, "It means that the virus has not progressed. As long as Ms. Glenanne's condition doesn't worsen, I feel comfortable sending her home today. Provided she will have someone to take care of her for the next couple of weeks."

Michael's heart lightened considerably at those words. He turned toward Fiona, but she didn't look so pleased.

"I don't know if that will be possible, you see I'm going to-"

"It will be _fine_ Fi." Michael assured, "I've taken care of it."

"You mean I won't be..." Fiona let he question hang, knowing that Michael didn't need her to finish.

"No Fiona. All I have to do is make a call and no one will bother you again."

Fiona's eyes brightened at this. Michael felt as though he had simplified the plan to the point of lying, but he didn't want Fiona to worry about him. She was going to be healthy and free and that was all that mattered.

For the rest of the morning, Michael and Fiona chatted while playing card games and reading magazines. Fiona didn't nap for the first time in days, and Michael was grateful for the interaction. Neither mentioned what had happened over the past week, or what the plan was moving forward. They simply enjoyed some normalcy. Fiona finally succumbed to her exhaustion at noon, and slept for two hours until it was time to be discharged from the hospital. Michael took care of the paperwork and packed up their things so Fiona could get a little extra rest before going home.

Michael saw his mother waiting in her car in front of the hospital. He had asked her to pick them up and she was more than willing to help. Michael helped Fiona in and stared expectantly at the officers who were still following Fiona like a dark shadow.

"There's no room for you in the car," he said as rudely as he could.

"That's not a problem Mr. Westen. We have two agents waiting outside Ms. Glenanne's house and another who will be following you home." He pointed to the black car behind them.

"So I guess that means you haven't received orders to make an arrest yet."

The two officers simply stared at him.

Michael got into the car next to Fiona, counting his blessings as his mother drove them home.

When they arrived at Fiona's house Michael led Fiona in while his mother carried her bag. Michael took a mental note of the license plate of the car waiting in front of Fiona's house. He would check later if the agents were legit. He was about to lead Fiona to her bedroom when she pulled him back.

"I'd like to take a bath, get the hospital smell off of me."

"Okay...do you want me to help?" It was one thing to bathe his ex-girlfriend when she was covered in vomit and deathly ill. Now that she was more aware of her surroundings, he wasn't sure it would be appropriate.

Before Fiona could answer, Madeline swept in.

"I'll help you, sweetie! We have a lot of catching up to do anyway."

Fiona nodded and followed Madeline into the bathroom.

"Wait Mom," Michael called her back. "I need to ask you something first."

His mother came out to face him. As soon as he heard the water go on in the bathroom, he made his request.

"I'm going to make a call. One that I think will save Fiona." His mother looked at him cautiously.

"And..." She prompted.

"And it might have consequences for me. So I need you to promise that you and Sam and Jesse will take care of Fiona if I need to...leave. Can you promise me that?"

"Of course, honey. But why-"

"I can't tell you, I'm sorry. I just can't let them get Fiona."

"I know." Madeline said sadly. "Do what you have to do." She gave her son a watery smile and went to help Fiona into the bath.

Michael stared at the closed bathroom door for a minute before taking out his phone and walking out to the back of the house, prepared to sacrifice everything.

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Sorry for the cliffhanger! I will post the final chapter on Wednesday. It seems approprtiate that this story is split into seven chapters and Burn Notice went seven seasons.

Please review if you have a few seconds!


	7. Chapter 7

Please the read author's note at the end. Without further adieu:

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_Michael stared at the closed bathroom door for a minute before taking out his phone and walking out to the back of the house, prepared to sacrifice everything._

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The first call Michael made was to Sam. He explained his plan and asked Sam to help him with it. Sam was shocked but since he couldn't think of another option, he agreed to help. He made the same call to Jesse, who was more agreeable. Michael knew that would be the case. He knew Jesse cared about him, but the younger man was always more loyal to Fiona.

After Michael had made his calls, and emailed the long document he had written in the hospital to his two best friends, he dialed the number for Robert Granger's boss and head of the International Relations Department, General Gregory Coleman. He reached General Coleman's secretary, who told Michael the general was not available to speak. Michael had expected this and told the secretary, a man named Ben, to tell his boss to check his email. He assured Ben that the general would want to talk to him once he had.

Ben put Michael on hold and sure enough, less that four minutes later, Michael was exchanging pleasantries with the general. That is, if death threats could be categorized under pleasantries.

After the general had run out of synonyms for the words _traitor_ and _disgrace_, he growled out, "What is it that you want Westen? What is it that is _so_ _valuable_ that you would turn your back on your country, put millions of lives including your own at risk for? Do you want money? Revenge? What is it?!" The general screamed the last sentence into the phone.

Michael was expecting this reaction. After all, he had put all of the details of his confidential missions down in one document and threatened to release it to the public. He deserved to be shot on sight, and he knew it. If that information got into the wrong hands, it would mean a collapse in relations between the US and many foreign nations. It was likely to start at least one war. Although Michael did not want any of this to happen, he felt he had no other choice if he wanted to save Fiona. She had, after all, helped him save the country more than enough times to deserve freedom in whichever way he could get it for her.

With this thought in mind, Michael made his demand.

"I want complete and total, lifelong diplomatic immunity for Fiona Glenanne. I want her extradition to be denied permanently. I want her to be granted citizenship, and to never have to worry about the government of any country, disturbing her life again."

General Coleman was silent for what felt like ages. Then, after heavy breathing and a couple scoffs of disgust, the general spoke.

"Are you sure you want to do this? Blackmailing the government is considered treason. You could face the death penalty for this."

Michael decided it was time to throw down his last card.

"Maybe so, and I'm ready to accept that consequence. But remember, if you put me on trial, that email will be Exhibit A, and you don't want it getting out. Oh, and general, if you send anyone to kill me, just know that there are two other people ready to release that document." Michael finished. He knew he was still at risk for being charged with blackmail or even assassinated, but he thought his plan would at least keep him safe for a little while.

"Fine, Westen." General Coleman spat out. "But I WILL be talking to my superiors about this. At the very least you can expect a dishonorable discharge. I hope it was worth it." He slammed the phone down.

Michael closed his own phone, looking toward the window where Fiona stood, watching him. He smiled, "It is."

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After Fiona's warm bath, she felt wonderful, cleaner and more relaxed than she had in days. She still worried about extradition in the back of her mind, but Michael had said he would take care of it and she trusted him implicitly, whether she should or not. When she had dried off and dressed, with Madeline's help, she started to make her way towards bed, her headache better but still present. Seeing Michael speaking on the phone out back however, made her take a detour and stand silently, watching him through the glass. She couldn't catch any of what he was saying, but his jaw was clenched and his eyes held a steely glare that even she wouldn't want to see aimed towards her. She stood there watching Michael as he talked, thinking back to when he was living in Miami. Life had been so complicated then, but it was still her favorite time, besides Ireland.

Over the past five years without Michael, Fiona had realized that she thrived on complicated, just like she thrived on a certain amount of violence. It may not have been ideal or sane, but it was who she was. Perhaps her feelings for Michael were the same. They were out of her control, and it was time to accept that even though he frustrated her, she liked her life better when he was in it. She used to wish she could be a normal woman in a normal relationship, but the way Michael had cared for her this past week, dropping everything to save her life, made her realize that normal was not what she wanted, _he_ was.

Michael closed his cell phone abruptly, and Fiona quickly opened the glass door and moved her still aching body outside. Perhaps it was the recent near death experience, or the painkillers, or the sight of the man she had missed so much, but Fiona found herself hurrying towards Michael, arms open, and falling into his arms just as her body gave out. Michael held her up, accepting her embrace and planting soft kisses on top of her head.

Both felt more at home than they had in years.

"Was that the call, Michael?" Fiona questioned.

"Yeah," he said, still relishing in her unexpected embrace.

"Well, what's going to happen?" She asked in a small voice.

"I got you complete diplomatic immunity. You can become a US citizen, and you will NEVER be extradited," he whispered proudly in her ear.

Fiona stared up at him, shock written all over her face.

"Did you sell your soul to the devil, Michael?"

"Not this time Fi." He lead her to the bedroom. "I'll explain it all to you tomorrow, I promise."

It was a testament to how tired Fiona still was that she lay down without protest.

"Fi," Michael had to ask her one last question. "Were you really going to make me turn you in? That would have been suicide."

"Would you have done it?"

"No." Michael answered without hesitation.

"Then I guess I would have been okay."

Michael rolled his eyes. "And what if I had?" He teased.

Fiona sat up with some difficulty and faced the man beside her. It was time to give him an explanation.

"For the past five years I was...depressed. More than depressed, I suppose. I was used to you leaving me," she ignored his guilty expression, "but that was the first time I'd had to live without you by choice."

Michael put his hand on her leg, comfortingly.

"And when I told you that you were in danger..." He prompted.

"I guess I saw an easy way out." She looked away from him, embarrassed. "If you were willing to hand me over, then there was nothing left for me anyway."

Michael wrapped his arm around Fiona's waist and settled back against the pillows with her.

"I would never have handed you over," he repeated, "_never._"

Fiona smiled and cuddled further into his warmth.

"Stay with me?" She asked, looking up at Michael.

"As long as you want Fi."

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The next morning, Michael was awoken by Fiona's elbow jabbing his ribcage. He had never been so relieved to receive a bruise in his life. He turned towards Fiona, who was lying in bed facing him.

"Tell me now, Michael," she demanded, not unkindly.

"Tell you what Fi?" Michael responded, not even bothering to stifle a huge yawn. He knew what Fiona wanted, but wasn't sure if her reaction to what he had done would make or break him.

"Tell me what you _did_, Michael Westen."

Michael took a deep breath. He decided he should just tell the whole truth, like ripping a band-aid off. _Off of my heart_, his subconscious added.

"I blackmailed the United States Government."

Fiona looked shocked, her expression full of disbelief. "You _what_?!"

Michael nodded and went on to explain that he had written down the details of all of his most controversial missions, and all of the CIA secrets he kept in his head.

"Michael, if that got out..."

"It would cause some huge problems throughout the world, I know. I wouldn't actually release it, I was bluffing," he hastened to add, at Fiona's look of horror. She looked slightly appeased but not entirely convinced.

"So you threatened to start World War III...to save my life? After all these years? After I gave up on you?"

"Of course Fi, I would never let anyone hurt you."

Fiona bit her lip, then spoke solemnly. "You committed treason, Michael. Won't they arrest you...or worse? I can't trade your freedom for mine."

"They might come after me, but I sent copies of the document to Sam and Jesse as insurance, and the CIA knows it. I'll deal with any other consequences when they come."

Fiona let out a breath. "Wow. I really didn't think you'd be able to fix this."

They lay in contented silence, each one soaking in the presence of the other.

"I assume you lost your job because of this." Fiona broke the silence.

"I haven't been officially let go, but I'd say that's a safe bet. I was thinking about early retirement anyway."

"Are you upset?" Fiona asked.

"I didn't hate being a handler, well besides all the paperwork, but I won't miss it. I'd rather know that you're safe," he added, breaking eye contact.

Fiona felt her eyes begin to water, and took a moment to compose herself. "I've missed you." She blurted out.

Michael looked at her again and reached for her hand, stroking it. "I've never stopped missing you," he replied.

"What-what are you going to do now that you're...retired? Are you planning on moving back to Miami?"

Michael could have sworn he heard hope in her voice. But she had kicked him out of her life years ago. He had accepted that she would never want him back. _Could she have changed her mind? _Michael wondered.

"Am I _allowed_ to come back to Miami?" He asked, cautiously.

Fiona's eyes seemed to light up. "If you want to, who am I to stop you?" She said, feigning indifference.

Michael saw right through her act. "If I did move back, you'd probably see me a lot more."

"Oh, well, I think I could live with that," Fiona said with obviously fake disinterest.

"And you'd probably be forced to have dinner with me occasionally." He continued, hoping he wasn't pushing his luck.

"Well, I suppose that's doable. But _only_ if you take me shopping once in a while. And help me with my jobs of course." She glanced at him hopefully, caressing his scruffy chin.

"Huh. Dinner, shopping, jobs...we might as well be dating again."

"Yeah, we might as well be," Fiona said coyly.

Michael smiled as Fiona leaned in for a kiss.

"Wait!" He pulled back a little. "If we do this, I mean, it's not that I don't want - it's just." He took a breath. "I don't want either of us to get hurt again."

"Am I worth the risk, Michael?" A confident smile appeared on her face.

Michael answered her hypothetical question with a slow, comforting kiss.

"Besides, I've learned a lot in the past five years," Fiona added in a thoughtful tone.

"Oh yeah, like what?" He asked between kisses.

"Like sometimes the people who make you the most angry are the ones you love the most. And...the people you push away are the ones you don't want to live without."

Michael considered this for a moment, then broke into a huge smile.

"Does this mean we're back together?" He asked, hoping he had understood her correctly.

"Not so fast, Michael," Fiona said looking up at him innocently. "It'll probably be at least another two weeks before I let you move in with me."

Michael smiled wider than he had in five years, and wrapped his arm around his girlfriend, burying his face in her fragrant hair.

"Just wait 'til I recover fully, then we can re-re-reconnect," she said stifling a yawn. She and Michael drifted off to sleep together.

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And it's finished! What did you think?

This was actually my first fanfiction, I've read so many from so many different fandoms over the years, but Burn Notice finally inspired me to write my own. I don't really like writing but I did enjoy making this fic. It was so fun to see how many people read what I wrote, and from so many different places!

THANK YOU to everyone who read even a word. I appreciate it! And to all those who reviewed, please know that I read and was grateful for each review.

Now, we are so near the end of one of the best shows ever. I will miss Michael and Fiona so much! I will be heartbroken for a while, but hopefully we will get a satisfying ending that inspires me and others to write more fanfiction. Fingers crossed!


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